Scars and Bones
by vampirediariesff
Summary: Elena lives in the most dangerous and disreputable area of Grove Hill. That's the sole reality she has ever known. On the day she runs away from an abusive mother, she meets Damon Salvatore. Little does she know her perception of danger now has to change.
1. Chapter 1

**Skin and Bones**

.

* * *

.

It was the coldest night of the season. The January breeze felt like blades on her face.

Damn, she should have dressed up a little bit more.

But her well-being was the last thing on her mind when she stormed out of the house after having gotten into a fight with her absentee excuse of a mother.

.

The neighborhood was quiet. It stunk like cheap beer, but it was almost comforting to her. Her entire life Elena Gilbert had lived in the most ill reputed quarter of the town of Grove Hill.

When you experience that sort of reality, you learn to toughen up.

A figure of a badly beaten man was in a yard she passed by, surrounded by syringes and the infamous white powder. She knew better. The girl turned her face in another direction and accelerated her pace.

Where was she even going, anyway?

For all she knew she could not walk back inside the Flemming's. She had been kicked out for good.

.

Thirty minutes of walk later and she had already risked her life twice.

That hour of the night was the most dangerous. Shootings, rapes, all sorts of things took place when the town was the most vulnerable.

So, she hid behind a set of dumpsters. _Ironic_ , she thought, _just the moral of my life_.

Her phone buzzed.

" _Where you at? Stopped by but Isobel the bitch threw stuff at my car. –Vicky_ "

She sighed.

" _I'm by Billy's club. Come pick me_ "

Little did she know it was the beginning of it all.

.

"So this Damon Salvatore dude is playing there. It's lame, everyone's fussin' about it, but the guy's fucking hot." Alexa announced, the sultriness obvious in her voice.

"Well, threesome it is then" Vicky laughed naughtily, as she sipped on her beer and held onto the wheel with only one hand. "Roll one for me?"

Alexa nodded, loving the idea of getting the party started ahead of time.

"Yo, Elena, you've a lighter?" the fake blonde called out to the backseat. "Gilbert?"

"What drug's she on?" she asked Vicky, when she realized their friend was in another place.

Vicky placed her hand on the horn, making the girl startle. The two evil friends laughed. "Now she's back" she smirked, satisfied.

"What?" Elena asked, absent-mindedly.

"Have you ever had a foursome?" Alexa asked.

.

.

The bar looked everything but cheap. Although the guests… well, stoned groups of horny whores pretty much covered it. It looked like a brothel. It would have excited the hell out of Elena, if it hadn't been for the fact that tonight she was not in the mood.

All she wanted to do was get as drunk as humanly possible, and probably pass out until every neuron of her brain lost function. Being oblivious would have been a bliss.

But this was true life, and it sucked.

Just the time to make it inside, and men were already lurking over her collarbone and checking out her voluptuous ass. She moved her hair aside, to show off even more. That move had been mastered so well that it just came out as a natural reflex to her.

Needless to say, the drinks kept coming and coming without her having to waste a cent.

All men expecting her to stop being lucid, just to take advantage of her curvaceous body for the rest of the night. But she was Elena Gilbert. She did not go down that easily.

All those years of drinking had made her build up an enviable tolerance.

.

"So… you wanna go in my car?" The heavy breath of an older man reached her left ear. She leaned away from the stool she was sitting on, taking in the image in front of her. He must have been in his fifties, uncured beard and poor manners. The usual.

"Tell you what" she tried not to slur on her words. "Get us another three shots of tequila and then we can have all the fun you want".

Vicky watched from the other side of the table, proudly smirking at her friend. She knew what was going to happen next.

She handed over to Elena a small envelope.

The latter quickly opened it, pouring its powdery content inside the men's unattended beer.

Five minutes later, she had received three more free shots and the recognition for being a roofie.

.

Vicky laughed. "That was evil!"

Elena simply shrugged it off. "He was not worth the fuck".

It was then that she saw those eyes.

Even if she wanted to avoid looking at them in the crowd, they would have pretentiously called out for her attention. They were in a shade of blue that blurred out all the surroundings, enchanting you to stare at them as if they had some kind of twisted spell on it.

Elena looked away, finding herself out of breath.

Who was that? The guy had moved too quickly for her to be given time to focus on his face. So, she scanned the room, this time sincerely curious for the owner of that killer gaze.

.

"Looking for someone?"

When she turned, he was standing right in front of her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Scars and Bones**

Chapter Two

.

* * *

.

"Looking for someone?" the man asked, a smug smirk well plastered on his face.

"How did…No, I wasn't." Elena stuttered, cursing at the booze's perfect timing.

His smirk grew wider now, nor would he stop staring.

"Do I know you?" she asked, well aware of where he thought this was going. How could she blame him? He was breathtakingly handsome.

"You should. You're here tonight, after all." He stated, extending his arms to the pandemonium of women on heat and cave men around them.

"And?"

"I bet you even want an autograph. Tell you what, I can give you so much more than that."

"What?" Elena asked, astonished. "Look, you're pretty but you make no sense."

He hinted at a wicked smile, shaking slightly his head.

She saw his muscly arm point at a barista, ordering some more booze.

"Come find me backstage. Doesn't need to make sense."

.

Two glasses of whisky arrived. She smelled it was strong, but indulged in the sin.

"My name is Damon Salvatore."

His blue eyes neared her doe depths more and more. His breath was now on her face.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" He murmured lustily.

"Elena…My name is Elena" she found herself blurt out without any sort of control.

"I'll make you mine before the end of the night, Elena..." was his obscure promise.

.

* * *

.

She did not know why she found herself walk through the backstage hallway.

She remembered his fingers playing on those guitar strings, his voice low and extravagantly romantic. It didn't sound right compared to his face. His features were anything but angelic. Yet his voice, that damn melody, drew her in and had her now completely caught up in the haze.

Her leather jacket was now too oppressive on her, a thin layer of sweat was beginning to form on her tanned body, those high heels were becoming like feathers and she was simply strolling effortlessly towards the source of her troubles.

Why should she have to stop? She had no idea who he was, but again, there was always a first for anything.

All she knew was that she needed him.

.

Elena knocked on the door. It had no tags or whatsoever, but somehow she knew it was where she had to go.

It leaked open, and she stepped foot in the room.

The blasting music from outside was softened by the thick walls. Most lights were off with the exception of the outside lamp posts, that illuminated the room from the big panel windows right before her.

"Elena…" she heard her name being whispered subtly.

She spun around fast, as a cold blow of wind run down her spine.

She shivered.

"Elena" this time it sounded like a lullaby. She felt her eyelids become heavier.

Until she fell down. She felt a lack of gravity, and before she could realize it, she found herself enveloped in a strong set of arms.

Black leather against black leather.

Looking upwards, she found those crystal blue depths and she knew she was damned.

.

"I knew you'd come by…" he whispered, seductively.

"Who are you?" she asked, her head was spinning from the alcohol and his proximity. The more she looked at him, the more she found him both handsome and insufferable.

"I'm the one any woman – _and possibly man_ \- in the other room would like to spend some time with"

"You can't have me" she bitterly spat.

He smirked, amused. "No?"

"I'm no one's" she affirmed, sternly.

"We'll see about that. You, little girl, have just turned my night around."

Then she slapped him.

.

"Don't you ever call me that again." She shook herself away from his firm grip.

He was strong, excessively powerful for her to even make him flinch.

"Let me go" she fought him back. "You bastard".

"Ouch" he laughed, wickedly. Then his amusement turned into something darker.

His chest shook against hers, and she felt the desire in his body that reflected right into his eyes.

"Kiss me" he ordered, locking their gazes dangerously.

He initiated the contact, and Elena could not push back. Physically, she was stuck. But mentally? He felt so good she didn't really care about morals.

All she wanted to do was give in into the temptation and relish in it.

.

The massive amount of screaming even came to her ears.

Someone was shooting, and it seemed like it was coming from the main hall.

Damon detached himself from her, as he already knew what was coming.

Without thinking, he fled and took her away with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Scars and Bones**

Chapter Three

.

* * *

She was not waking up.

He had no idea how much alcohol a petite woman like her could take, but judging from how much she had thrown up, he thought it was a hell of a lot.

Bummer. She may have been a good drinking and hazed sex buddy. She sure had her curves in all the right places. Very generous ones. He had never particularly been attracted to that kind of physique, but she had something that would just not allow him to look away.

Elena…

She grunted in her sleep, then tossed and turned on the white leather couch of his attic. Thank God he had removed her heels. He hoped she was not about to give puking another round.

Her shirt lifted enough to show the beginning of her black lacy bra. He imagined what it would have been like to discover those inches of covered body.

Damn Klaus.

Damon was pretty sure whoever had barged in the club had been sent by him. Niklaus Mikaelson used to be Stefan's obsession. For a time, he had also thought his brother had changed his preferences as regards his sexual orientations. In the end, he realized Stefan was just a wicked piece of shit, who couldn't master the fine art of walking on the dangerous threat of a balanced vampire life. He idolized Klaus because with him, he could do anything he wanted without being scolded.

What a vicious brat.

But what did Mikaelson really want with him? All Damon was certain about was that what had just happened tonight had only been the beginning.

He heard her groan again.

"No…" she muttered, flustered. Then she tossed again, this time too violently that she ended up with her bum on the floor.

Damon laughed, amused.

Elena's chocolate eyes immediately shot open. She looked around, confused and mildly worried.

"Hello there, lushy pants. Easy with my couch. It cost a fortune."

.

The girl struggled to stand up. She put a hand on the small glass table right in front of her to give herself some sort of support. Her head pounded as it if were being perforated with a drill. Then she remembered.

"The club. Oh my God, somebody was shooting! Vicky…My friends were there!" she hurriedly recollected her phone and her shoes, as she looked around to take in her surroundings.

"I need to go" she muttered, still confused. She could not quite recollect all the pieces of the puzzle. Elena had no idea how she had gotten there.

It came to her mind suddenly. All the kissing, the touching… God. This was awkard.

She had to focus. Calling a cab would have been best than to just walk home. Wait. Where was she, anyway?

"Where am I?" she felt a wave of panic wash over her. Her legs weakened and she found herself shaking. Her body had run out of adrenaline.

In the meantime, Damon had silently watched her reaction, concluding she was still highly intoxicated by cheap ass alcohol. He would have not likely had to compel her.

"I can't let you out" he spoke out, calmly.

He shifted his back to her, nonchalantly picking one vinyl record to play.

She stared in astonishment. "I need to go see if my friends are okay. I'm not drunk anymore."

He made fun of her words with a noise. "You stink of whatever shit they gave you earlier to get in your pants. Yes, you're clearly not drunk, Elena."

She shivered as she heard him pronounce her name. It brought back what had happened at the bar.

She pushed it back.

.

"How long ago did that happen?" she asked.

"A couple hours ago." He intuited she was referring to the shooting. "All you did was wake up and puke on me as I drove you here."

She looked down, embarrassed. That explained why he was wearing different clothes. He went from a total black outfit to wearing a deep burgundy v-neck that somehow enhanced the cold hues in his eyes. And his toned chest.

She swallowed, focusing her attention on her surroundings. "And where exactly is _here_?"

"I can't tell you" he repeated, as he approached her, as if she were a pray he was about to attack.

She was starting to get scared, but frustration and pride had the best of her.

"Fine, be that way." She spat as she turned around and headed for the closest door.

In the blink of an eye, she saw his fist block it shut. She removed her hand from the handle, and turned to face him. "Let. Me. Go." She ordered, as she slapped him.

What surprised her was that he did not even flinch.

It was then that Elena Gilbert knew she was in trouble.

.

Her eyes scanned his, and he noticed how her lower lip started to shake faintly, as if she were holding back an outburst. The moment after she slapped him, then, she readily concealed all the emotions behind a cold façade.

He kept eye contact. His breaths gently caressed her face and imposed a steady rhythm that she unconsciously followed. They were silent for a long time, until he realized their breathing patterns had synchronized.

"Feel better?" Damon let out huskily.

She stared at him like a brat who could not be bothered. "I want out"

"Just a coffee." He raised his pointer finger to highlight the proposal. "I'll let you decide if you want to leave then."

Dramatically, the sound of sirens in the background accentuated the gravity of his dark promise. She looked towards the wall in front of them, it had windows covering almost its entire surface. The faint lights of the city outside made it suddenly seem it as a bad idea to leave for whatever reality was awaiting her.

.

.

.

"Who did that, at the bar? You know. I know you do." She inquired, suspicious.

He raised his eyebrow at her affirmation. She was much smarter than he had given her credit for.

"Vicky won't answer" she voiced her fears, knowing full well he would not care less about her life.

He handled her a big cup of hot steaming coffee.

"Drink"

Damon grabbed the remote from the kitchen island, switching the T.V. on. She took in his figure when he turned his back to her to pour himself some coffee. He was wearing grey sweat pants that hung low below his waist, and she realized how much more of a normal guy he now looked.

She sighed, knowing he had ignored her.

Then the distant sound of the news lady from the living room came to her ears as she announced what had just happened to the bar.

" _…. Twenty people were found dead. Police say it was a gangster attack. Forensic will be announcing the name of the victims in the upcoming hours._ "

.

The screen turned black.

"Why did you switch it off?" she asked, astonished.

"Give yourself a break for two minutes or I may have to spike your coffee with some whisky."

"I'm not an alcoholic" she replied, offended. Why did she even care what he thought of her?

Somehow, his words were affecting her too much. She did not want to be compared to her mother. She had promised herself she would have never been that person.

And yet, that is what she appeared to be to the world. A useless slut.

"Don't you ever imply that again" it was hard to keep it together as she spoke those words. Elena had no idea what was happening inside of her, but tonight she had all sorts of emotions bottled up and ready to explode.

She was really alone. The only support she could have kind of counted on had seemed to have disappeared. Damn Vicky Donovan.

.

Damon did not apologize. He simply stared at her, silent, as he took a sip of his coffee.

"They never taught you to _embrace_ your demons, uh?" he muttered, possibly more to himself. "How old are you?" Damon asked, somehow it was him who was doing most of the talking. It usually was the other way around.

"I'm sixteen" her answer almost made him spit out his coffee. How could she be sixteen and look like that? This girl was the youngest he had ever slept with… Well, almost slept with, anyway.

Good thing was that she had been more than eager to do it. He liked to use women to satisfy his needs, but he had always had this unspoken rule when it came to children.

Was she a child to his eyes?

.

.

.

"How old are you?" she returned the question.

A hundred and twenty-seven year old. "I'm twenty-seven."

.

"Why were you at that bar?" he had broken off the comfortable silence. The effect of the booze was slowly wearing off, leaving Elena in a tranquil state of haze, despite all of the night's drama.

"For you" she replied bluntly and honestly, while still lost in the patterns that the coffee bubbles were creating in the mug.

Damon raised an eyebrow. "Stalker. That's my style."

He managed to make her giggle, even though she felt too proud to let it show. "My friends are obsessed with you. They dragged me to the event. Besides, it's not like I could stay home" she explained, while maintaining her gaze low.

"Oh, I get it" he mocked "Party girl and all. The drama when you are your age must be crippling"

Elena's expression went blank, all traces of friendliness quickly erased. "Having any woman you want kissing your ass and following you like lost puppets must be the bliss of your existence, uh? Must be exhausting to just have to clap your hands and get whatever you desire"

"Well, I don't exactly clap my hands. You know, I do this eye-thing…." He said smugly.

"You're just a self-centered jerk." She muttered, trying to resist her need to slam the empty mug on the counter.

.

"Where do you think you're going?" he hurried next to her.

Too fast. He had moved _too fast_.

"How did you do that?" her own mind was fighting against all logic.

"Do what?" he played dumb.

"I.. I… I'm done with my coffee. I'm leaving now." She tried to run away from him, but he blocked her by the forearms and slammed her against the fridge.

He neared her, slowly savoring the sweet smell of blood now flowing fast in her carotid. He could already taste in his mind how addicting it could be. Something about her drove him to the edge of insanity. The worst thing was that he could not pinpoint what it was, exactly, that made him feel that way.

Maybe her age, maybe her body. Maybe the way she spoke those words… He already had a clear picture of what kind of job her lips could be doing.

He was already hell bound, might as well enjoy the fucking _ride_. In all senses.

.

"You're not done." He compelled her, as he saw the surrender flicker through her eyes.

"Don't hurt me…" she pleaded.

"Oh you already know it's going to feel good. I smelled it on you the second you sat next to me" he teased, playing with a strand of rebel hair covering her face.

Damon started kissing her neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses down to her collarbone.

She heaved heavily. Elena knew she had to leave. It was a survival and unconscious need that had been alerting her something was off from the moment his eyes had locked with hers, and now it was stronger than anything she had ever felt before.

A punch flew to his stomach. She was sure she had broken a bone or two, but she did not care. She needed to get away from him.

She ran for the door, this time determined to open it.

But then she heard him scream in agony, and to hell with all common sense. She could not leave him like that.

.

Damon was on the floor, grunting in pain and fighting for air that seemed to lack in his lungs.

His hands were painfully grasping onto the skin of his chest, as his blue malicious depths were drowning in utter pain and helplessness.

Elena ran to him without any second thought. She crashed herself on the floor with him, not caring if her knees were going to be bruised the next day.

"Oh my God" she murmured.

"What's happening.. to…me" he rattled.

A heart attack? Could it be? Elena felt useless, all she could do was take him in her arms as he wrenched in pain. He leaned into her chest, as she instinctively held him tighter.

She took her phone, dialing 911.

"Don't" he said, as she looked at him as if he were crazy.

"Please… Don't" it was the first time she heard him beg.

She did not know why, but she found herself hanging up, hating more and more the situation she had found herself in. Now she knew for certain he was the last person on earth she should be near with.

Whatever he was trying to hide, Elena knew was not going to be good news.

"Where does it hurt?" she asked, flustered, while trying to keep her own breathing under control.

His focus begin to slip away, as his eyelid started to close.

"No!" she screamed. "Don't sleep" her tiny hands grabbed his face, as she slapped his cheeks to keep him from drifting off.

"Damon! Stay awake! Please!" Elena was in panic, this man was dying on her.

She felt an enormous wave of helplessness wash over her as the tears started clouding her vision. "Dear God…" She murmured "Damon…. Don't die on me"

And,just like that, she _embraced_ him as he emitted one last breath before his lungs gave out.


End file.
